


The Messenger

by universityofwhales



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient form of Twitter, Biblical References, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jesus is born at one point, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Self-Esteem Issues, and they're not even in the right order, gratuitous use of flashbacks, partly inspired by Life of Brian kind of, there's a cat somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-06 16:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18855232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universityofwhales/pseuds/universityofwhales
Summary: With the Son of God on Earth, every angel is cracking down on everything slightly demonic. So while Aziraphale is stationed at Jerusalem, Crowley is left alone to hide out in Tiberias, about 90 miles away. Even though they can't meet each other in person, Aziraphale has heard of this fascinating messaging system involving a dove and pieces of papyrus. It's better than nothing, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since that carpenter started giving away miracles to anyone who asked, Aziraphale had been very busy across the country. Much too busy for Crowley's liking, anyway. But with how tense it was in Heaven right now, the angel couldn't be blamed for not taking time to see him. It was a shame, too. The Sea of Galilee was beautiful this time of year.

  
And the city of Tiberias wasn't too bad either, if you were interested in seeing throngs of humans surrounding one gentleman who woke up and thought 'I'm a messenger of God, and everything I say is the absolute truth because He told me in my slumber!' Please. Anyone with a casual understanding of celestial politics knows that God doesn't just pick a random human to personally speak to. Why do that when He has a countless amount of angels to do that for him? Still, as Crowley walked about the roads to 'observe humanity for potential soul-tempting opportunities' as he would say to the Lower Downs, it gave him a small bit of entertainment to mentally tear apart the statements he would overhear. But even as he did so, safe from criticism as long as his comments stay in his mind, Crowley can't help but feel something. What's the word...dissatisfied? Frustrated? No, the feeling wasn't that aggressive.

A word starting with the letter 'L' comes to mind, but Crowley buries it in the sand as soon as it comes up. It wasn't that. Was it? For his sake, it shouldn't be that. Demons don't feel that sort of thing. Or at least, Crowley had never felt that way before. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. It scuffed up his trail of thought. Where was he?

Ah yes, that's what he was doing. Blending in with the crowd surrounding a man in a ragged robe, shouting as if he were speaking to the heavens and reiterating everything they already knew.

"The Whore of Babylon shall ride on a three-headed serpent!"

Actually, it's got seven heads, but no point in correcting the great sage. If Crowley wanted to share when the apocalypse would happen and how, he would get his own pedestal to stand on. Besides, the prophet's audience was speaking up for him.

"How do you know it's got three heads?"

"I've seen it!" The man looks to the woman who would dare question him, eyes wide with enlightenment (or insanity, depending on who you asked). "I was led to the depths of hell by a guardian angel, and I have seen the beast with me own two eyes!"

Crowley hides a grin. An angel sneaking a human into hell and back to Earth again would cause a ruckus Down There. And Up There, for that matter. If Aziraphale heard about this nonsense, he would be in such a-

Damn it all. He did it again. That angel has a special talent for sneaking in Crowley's mind when he tries his best not to think of him.  
Speaking of angels, it was about that time, wasn't it? The sun was starting to set behind the stone buildings, slowly plunging the speaker and his listeners into the shadows. If he started heading back to his lodgings, he should be there by the time his little visitor arrives. So he turns, leaving with two older women speaking with great interest of what they just heard.

Well, the demon thinks, they're going to be disappointed. The apocalypse isn't for another 2000 years, if everything goes well.

-

_"So we'll say this right here," Aziraphale explained as he drew a triangle in the sand with a stick, "is home."_

_"Mmhm." Crowley nodded, sitting under the fichus tree protecting the two beings from the scorching sun. Not that they really needed protection from the elements, but the light breeze felt nice._

_"This over here," Aziraphale drew a square a few inches away from the triangle, "is where the bird is going to be taken. So the bird is taken away from home to here." A line was drawn from the triangle to the square. "Then whoever is here," Aziraphale said, gesturing to the square, "can attach a message to the bird, usually in this little pouch on its back, and releases it." Another line was drawn, this time in an overhead arc from the square to 'home'._

_"And the bird just knows how to get back home."_

_"Exactly."_

_Crowley rested his chin in his hand. "That's a bit presumptuous to think the bird just knows where to go. And besides, wouldn't it be a one way trip?"_

_Aziraphale paused. "Well..."_

_"Because once the bird reaches home, that's it." Crowley drew an X over 'home'. "The bird can't be sent back to the sender, can it?"_

_"I've heard that, if it's trained well enough, it can go back and forth between two locations."_

_"And besides," he continued, "how do we know the bird won't just fly off somewhere else?"_

_"Crowley," Aziraphale reasoned, "if you were guaranteed a place to sleep away from predators and hunters, along with a reliable source of food, would you risk going off on your own?"_

_Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. The angel made a point, but he didn't want to admit that._

_"And besides, you do know what I am." Aziraphale raised a brow. "You know how living things just naturally draw to us."_

_"I know. You don't think I don't know that? How many cats have rubbed up against your legs?"_

_"I've lost track."_

_"Exactly."_

_There was a pause, a leaf fluttering to ground in between the two, before Aziraphale broke the silence._

_"You don't think it would willingly fly to you."_

_Crowley didn't say a word._

_Aziraphale sighed. "I'm right, aren't I?"_

_"Am I that transparent?"_

_"Like glass, Crowley."_

_Another pause struck the air, but the angel wasn't going to let that hover around them for long._

_"Crowley, I guarantee that bird would come to you."_

_"Do you now." Crowley droned, leaning against the tree and looking up towards the cloudless sky._

_"I do. And if not, then...Hm..." he thought for a second. "I'll just have to send you another one."_

_That managed to get a small giggle from the demon. "How would you know the first one didn't make it?"_

_"Holy intuition."_

_"Oh, of course, how could I forget?" Crowley straightened up, feeling his normal, relaxed self again as he 'praised' the angel. "And you would lay down judgement on that fiendish rat with wings, wouldn't you? Blast it out of the sky with holy thunder!"_

_"Alright, that's enough out of you." Aziraphale scolded Crowley, but there was no denying a smile was creeping up on his face._

-

Aziraphale really knew how to find them, thinks Crowley. Standing patiently on the window sill, staring at Crowley as he walks into the room, is a dove, cooing pleasantly. It's pure white, not a speck of dust or dirt on its plumage. And not a single feather is out of place either, as if it didn't just fly for miles from wherever Aziraphale was.

"Still as perfect as the day he found you, eh?" Crowley mumbles to himself as he approaches the bird. Naturally, the bird shies away from Crowley's hand, looking at it as if it would break every bone in its body if it wasn't careful. But as soon as the piece of papyrus in the pouch wrapped onto its back is recovered, the dove relaxes again, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Oh, come off it," Crowley growls as he unfolds the small roll of parchment.

**I have just reached Jerusalem. I trust you are doing well in Tiberias?**

That's it? That was a little disappointing. Still, what did Crowley expect? It's not like this little dove could carry something like a full letter on its back for over ninety miles.

On the wooden table right next to the window, several small rolls of papyrus and a pen, laying in a pot of black ink, was prepared. Now it's Crowley's turn. But what could he write? Obviously, not much. He can probably squeeze in two sentences if he writes small enough. He would just have to be straight to the point for these. After some internal debating, he writes his message down.

**I'm fine here, keeping myself busy. How is the 'Son of God' doing?**

That should be alright, Crowley thinks. Even though he's still a bit unsure, it's better than nothing. Looking over to the small bed he had prepared for the dove, he could see it had already made itself at home, sitting peacefully on the wool blanket, eyes closed as it relaxes into it. Right, it needs to take breaks in between stops. That's only natural. This can wait until the morning, he supposes. But just to make sure he won't forget, he slips his message into the dove's bag before sitting back, listening to the bustle of human life die down with the sun's light.

-

_The newborn's wails filled the frozen air, and a collective sigh of relief was let out from every living thing in the area. A healthy baby boy cried as his mother held him, smiling tiredly as she looked down at him in her arms._

_Or at least, that's what Aziraphale was imagining on the hilltop, looking down at the holey shed from his post. But it didn't matter whether he could see the infant's face or not. All he could feel as he watches the baby laid down in his manger was peace, even in the cold of night. He smiled softly to himself as the babe eventually calmed, and nearby animals came closer to get a good look at the Lord._

_"Tiny little thing, isn't he?"_

_Aziraphale began to shriek, but quickly silenced himself. Nothing to ruin such a tranquil moment like a good scream. Besides, he knew who that voice belonged to. Looking up, he saw the black serpent looking back down at him, hanging from a branch of the wilted olive tree._

_"What are you-"_

_"Just wanted a little peek. He's pretty cute though, eh?"_

_"You can't be here! You-" Aziraphale paused, eyes widened as he looked around. No other angels around, they must be too focused on the baby. Besides, the three wise men are supposed to appear in a few minutes. There was sigh tinged with frustration before Aziraphale glared swords at Crowley. "You're a demon!" He whispered as loud as he could. "If anyone sees you here, you would be slain without a second thought!"_

_"Hence why I'm here like this." The snake lowered his head, looking at the angel with a neutral gaze. Well, it looked neutral. Snakes were never very good at emoting. "Besides, you're not going to slay me here, are you? Celebrate the Lord's birth with a little blood on your hands."_

_Aziraphale grimaced. "Don't make me think about blood at a time like this, please. Besides," he raised an eyebrow, "I didn't think you would be interested in this. Isn't this terrible news for your side?"_

_"Hm." If snakes had shoulders, Crowley would be shrugging them. "Call it morbid curiosity."_

_"I see."_

_"Besides, you could say I'm 'observing'. You know, looking for 'potential weaknesses'."_

_"I find that offensive."_

_"You find everything I say offensive."_

_"I do not!"_

_Crowley looked at Aziraphale, refusing to break eye contact. "Isn't that a strange thing for an angel to say to a demon."_

_"I've known you for," he thought for a second, "er, about four thousand years now, is it?"_

_"That sounds right."_

_"I'd say that allows me to be used to your," Aziraphale gestured vaguely at Crowley, "shenanigans."_

_"Hmph." The snake looked back to the shed. "'Shenanigans', he calls them."_

_"Not like there's a better word for what they are."_

_A sudden gust of wind hit the two of them, and Crowley realized his choice of form was not the wisest. He was freezing, and scales hardly provided any source of warmth. At least the angel had robes, that was at least a little bit of protection._

_Aziraphale shivered, looking up at Crowley with a tinge of worry in his eyes. "The nights here are rather cold, aren't they?"_

_"Yes, they are."_

_"I think," Aziraphale sighed out, a cloud of mist rising from his mouth, "now would be the perfect time to find shelter."_

_"Don't you have to stay here?"_

_"Until Gabriel gives the word. And besides, I wasn't talking about myself."_

_Crowley scoffed, watching three old men approach, bearing what appeared to be gifts in their arms. "Spoilsport."_

_"I try."_

_Aziraphale blinked, and the snake was gone. A breath he didn't realize he was holding was released into a sigh._

-

"Right, off you go then."

The dove gives Crowley one last look before taking off and flying off southwards. To the east, the sun begins its ascent, bringing light and noise back to the marketplace below him. Looking out the window, he could already see the 'prophet' take his place on his barrel, ready to start his work. Crowley wonders what he will bring to the table today.

"Filthy sinners of Tiberias," the man starts, scratching at the whiskers on his cheeks, "the time has come for you to learn of what awaits you after death! In the bottomless depths of hell!"

The demon watching from above grins. He's about to recount another one of his stories from his adventures in hell, it sounds like. Wonder what his 'angel' decided to show him now.

"You will be judged, and rightly so, for once you do," he raises a hand, "your punishment shall await you. But it will not be the same for everyone!" He looks over the crowd starting to gather around him, mostly of his regular listeners. "Those who let money control their actions, you will be sent to push your sacks of gold to the top of an endless mountain for all eternity. Those who give in to their lust, rather than modesty, shall be treated as they have treated their lives, thrown about by great gusts of wind, like the winds of self-indulgence that ruled them!"

Crowley raises a brow as he listens. Ironic punishments, eh? Not a bad idea. He should toss the idea to the Lower-Downs next time he goes back there. That should give them the spark of inspiration they need to mix things up a bit with the damned. You can only go so far with pits of fire.

"And if you think," the prophet rambles, speeding onto the next topic like a cheetah, "If you dare think there will be a safe place to perform any of your sinful actions, you would be sorely mistaken! Because Satan's eyes are everywhere. Anyone could be a messenger! Like you!" He points to an elderly woman, who's eyes widen like plates as everyone looks to her. "Or you!" The prophet points to a gentleman passing by, carrying a stalks of wheat under his arms. The poor man doesn't realize why everyone is looking at him, and beset by this sudden social interaction, briskly walks off. Crowley chuckles at the scene, but his entertainment is interrupted by several pairs of eyes.

The prophet is pointing at him now, and the crowd is looking where he's pointing. At having so many people looking up at him to his room, Crowley suddenly feels very naked.

"You, sir!" The sage yells up at him. "You think this would be a laughing matter!?"

This was fine, the demon lies to himself. He was very good at doing that when he needed to. "What was that?"

"Do you think that when you pass from this world," the man asks, stomping a foot onto his barrel, "God will simply excuse you of your every sin and let you pass through the pearly gates?"

"I don't think so, but-"

"Then why do you laugh? I teach you what I know, and you would dare think of this as a joke?"

"It's just," Crowley reasons, doing his best to only look at the prophet and not the pedestrians looking up at him expectantly. "You really wanna go through life thinking everyone is out to get you? That sounds like paranoia talking."

"Paranoia is what can save us from damnation!"

"Paranoia is what keeps you locked up in your room, never going out and experiencing life."

"Life is full of sin!"

"Hence the locked room." Crowley leans against the window sill, resting his chin on his hand as he continues his argument. "Does God want you to stay home, reciting your prayers all day and reading, just so you can die and do the same thing in Heaven?"

"If that's what it takes, then-"

"Sounds like a load of propaganda."

That got some gasps from the spectators. Feeling this may be overstepping his boundaries, Crowley reels back a little.

"I'm just saying," he starts, "you can have sex with whoever you want, spend money on whatever you want, but I think the key here is moderation." The eyes looking up at him were starting to lighten up. "You want to save your gold? Fine, as long as your bank isn't completely full of things you could give to the poor and helpless. And as long as its consensual between all parties-"

"Don't you mean both parties?" says a random bystander.

"I know what I said. If there's consent, then go ahead and bang anyone you like!"

"Sir!" The prophet speaks again, though his cheeks have started turning bright red. "You may say these things now, but when you leave this mortal plane, you will wish that you hadn't said those words before our Lord!"

"Fine. If He doesn't have anything better to do, than he can eavesdrop on me."

Words are barely coming out of the old man's mouth. All that can be heard was exasperated breaths and noises like a choking goat.

Right, this conversation was done. Deciding to finish the show, Crowley looks to the barrel the prophet stands on. A nail just so happens to slip out of one of the boards, causing the whole thing to collapse into a pile of wood and fermented fish. And now that pile had one lunatic on top of it, writhing to try and escape the smell and mess of it all. Everyone looks to the scene, a few of them hiding giggles and amused grins.

Satisfied with his work, Crowley turns and leaves the scene. Too bad no one of any significance saw the whole thing. He thought it was pretty alright. It certainly left his audience in shock, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley doesn't even realize he fell asleep until he opens his eyes to the sound of something cooing in his ear. He groans and turns his head. The dove had let itself in, a new message in its pouch waiting to be read. Actually, it was waiting impatiently. With the bird right next to his ear, the cooing was loud enough to rattle Crowley's brain.

"Just a minute." He mumbles, and turns to his side away from the dove. Beings like him didn't need to sleep, but it was something Crowley had learned to appreciate every once in a while. In fact, he's just about to close his eyes and go back to what he was doing, but a small weight on his arm stops him. He looks up. The dove is standing on his right bicep and staring down at him.

Crowley clicks his tongue and pushes the pest off. "I see you, I see you, just leave me alone."

A peaceful five seconds passes before there was a sudden sharp prick on his finger. Sitting up on his bed now, Crowley looks to his injury, to the dove, then back to his finger. The pieces fit together quite nicely. He clicks his tongue and frowns down at the bird as he retrieves the note on its back.

"What, you just wanna get out of here, is that it?" As he unrolls the parchment, the messenger flutters to its nest, settling in as Crowley reads.

**The Lord is doing well. "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth". Or something like that.**

Crowley doesn't hesitate to write his response as soon as he reaches his desk.

**Spreading his messages to me, angel? Here's one for you. "Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!"**

On second thought, this would get him into more trouble than he can afford to right now with Aziraphale. Besides, what if somebody else saw this? Not that they would know it was from an agent of hell anyway, but it can't hurt to be careful. Besides, the dove is looking at the message rather intently from his perch, and it makes Crowley self-conscious.

He covers the scroll with his hand. "How about you mind your own business?"

Then the bird looks up at Crowley. And he swears it's looking him right in the eye as it gently coos. Crowley frowns as reason comes to the forefront.

"What am I saying? It's not like you could read this. Or anything I'm saying for that matter." He blinks at the bird.

The bird blinks back.

Great. He's talking to a glorified pigeon like it can understand him. This must be what humans call 'insanity'. Defeated, Crowley rests his head on the desk and swipes the piece of papyrus to the floor. This is pathetic. He's pathetic. The angel has been gone for over a week now and this was what Crowley was reduced to. And he hasn't even sent his second response yet!

"What am I even supposed to say to that? The meek shall inherit the Earth? What does that mean? What are the meek going to do?"

Even though Crowley isn't speaking to anyone in particular, the dove tilts its head and continues looking at him. About a minute passes of the demon and the dove staring at each other. A gentle breeze from outside blows in and settles into the room, cooling it down just slightly. Perhaps just slightly enough that Crowley speaks once again.

"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."

Though he hasn't been to Italy in a while, he at least knows a little bit of the language. Even though demons and angels automatically understand every human language, it was a little fun to learn about how the mortals would choose to communicate. Italian was one of Crowley's favorites. It seemed to just slide off his tongue naturally whenever he practiced speaking. The phrase he had just made up was dark in nature, but there was something about the words Crowley just put together that was interesting. Aziraphale would gush about Italy, so maybe he should write something back in their language. Although this phrase wouldn't make the most sense to him. Maybe this could be something for Hell to consider. Put it above a door or something.

"What do you think?" He asks.

He swears the dove shook its head.

"I'd like to see you do better."

There was no response this time.

The demon chuckles. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

He grabs a new piece of papyrus and tries again.

**Sbrigati e finisci la tua attività. L'Italia ci sta aspettando!**

Crowley finishes and notices the pair of eyes criticizing his message again.

"Well? What do you think?" He entertains the thought of the dove reading and reviewing his simple message.

The dove coos rather loudly, which Crowley chooses to interpret as a positive response. He chuckles. "At last we've agreed on something."

-

_"So He says to him, he says," Aziraphale rambled, his cheeks turning a slight pink, "that he needs to take his son to be sacrificed to Him! To prove that he is dedicated to Him!"_

_Crowley shuddered, grasping at his mug. "And I thought Lucifer had problems."_

_"But before Abraham kills his own flesh and blood, an angel swoops down and says 'Right, you've proven your faith, but that ram over there will do just fine'. And it's,"_

_Aziraphale grabbed his own mug, but stopped as he struggled to form a word, "it's just, well-"_

_"Dramatic?"_

_"No, er," he tapped a finger on the table as he scrunched his eyes, deep in thought._

_"Brutal?"_

_"Deceiving! Barbaric! Not...virtuous!"_

_"Oh, yeah." Crowley nodded and watched Aziraphale take a sip of his beer._

_"Bitter," He mumbled, but continued to hold the mug in his hands, just in case._

_"Not as good as the wine in Sicily, eh?"_

_"My dear, nothing will be as good as the wine in Sicily."_

_"That's quite a claim."_

_"Oh, Italy." Aziraphale sat back in his chair, looking upwards as he reminisced. "They have the best vineyards, the best architecture, the best food!"_

_"Sounds like a wonderful place."_

_"It really is."_

_Crowley grinned, letting the angel think of his paradise on Earth as he takes a sip of his beer. Sure, it tasted like piss, but it got them buzzed, and that's what the end goal was. A hand suddenly slammed on the table, causing Crowley to gag and cough out his beer back into the mug._

_"Wait! Don't tell me you've never been to Italy!"_

_"What?" He coughs. "Not recently, no."_

_"When was the last time you've been?"_

_His brows lowered in thought. "I think when Rome was founded."_

_"Oh, my dear, sweet boy." Aziraphale shook his head, putting a hand on Crowley's shoulder. The angel was a lot more open to touch when he was under the influence, he noticed. Not that he minded. "We're going to Italy when I get back. I promise you, your mind is going to-to be taken to new horizons when you see what they've done, it is simply marvelous!" He threw his hands up in the air, praising the people of Italy in a slurred announcement._

_"Hey, you're making a scene." Crowley hissed as he grabbed Aziraphale's wrists, bringing his hands back down._

_"When did you decide you were my caretaker?"_

_"Since right now." He brought the mug to his lips. "And besides, I don't want your last night here to end in a brawl."_

_Aziraphale's face scrunched up in thought. Finally, he made a choice and slumped back in his chair. "Sorry."_

_"It's alright."_

_"No, it's not. I-" He sighed and looked to the table, his eyes scanning the wood._

_As Crowley finished his drink, he licked his lips and put his mug on the table. Looking to Aziraphale, he noticed an unmistakable look. And as the pieces fit into place, the commotion coming from other customers, those relaxing after work, and those just wanting to score some company in their bed for the night, fade away._

_"Aziraphale."_

_No response. He tries again._

_"Aziraphale?"_

_Nothing. This was getting ridiculous._

_"Come on, you know I can't read minds. You've been acting funny all day, how about you clue me in on-"_

_The angel mumbled something. Crowley leaned closer, his chest practically resting on the table._

_"What was that?"_

_And even as two gentlemen at another table were getting rambunctious, showing their fists to each other as they yelled in a drunken rage, Aziraphale's words were the only things Crowley chose to hear._

_"Is it bad that I don't want to go?"_

_There was nothing but the two of them at that moment. Crowley opened his mouth to speak._

_And was pushed to the ground by a stray drunkard, sliding across their table and bringing Crowley with them to the ground. As the pain brings him back to reality, Crowley groaned as he shoved the human missile off of himself._

_"That's what happens when you talk about me mum like that, you piece of shit!" Another gentleman, built like a stone wall, rushed to the missile and pinned him down, whaling on him with punch after punch. Crowley took this chance to escape, slowly standing up._

_"Crowley!" As his senses fixed themselves, Crowley saw Aziraphale, helping him up with his hands around his arms. "Are you-"_

_"Yeah, I'm fine." Crowley wiped a hand under his nose. His eyes wandered to the blood that had suddenly appeared._

_"No you're not, you're bleeding!" And before Crowley could say anything, he was being pushed through the crowd, led by a gentleman still slurring a bit, but keeping himself steady for his friend's sake. "Excuse us! Pardon me! Please step aside, my friend's hurt!" And so on and so forth until the cold night air struck Crowley, sobering him up instantly._

_"Are you hurt?" Aziraphale raised a hand up to Crowley's nose, dripping with blood. "Here, let me-"_

_"It's fine." Crowley pushed his hand away. "Just a broken nose, should fix itself up in just a minute here."_

_"O-Oh." He scanned his face one more time before backing away. "Alright then."_

_"Besides, angel," Crowley held his nose as the cartilage reformed itself. "I'm more curious as to why you don't want to see the son of your Lord."_

_"What? Oh, that. I, er..." Aziraphale held his head in his hands, as if he had a migraine. "Ugh, what was in that beer? I don't think I've felt this sloshed since-"_

_"Aziraphale, stop." With his nose fixed, Crowley wiped away the last of the blood staining his upper lip on his robe. "You don't look good when you try to lie."_

_The demon looked at the angel intensely, but Aziraphale was refusing to make eye contact. Usually, this meant Crowley hit the nail on the head._

_"So why don't you stay here?"_

_"Crowley, it's..." The angel took a deep breath and looked up to the night sky. Each of the stars were glimmering bright tonight. "I don't think this is something you can understand."_

_"Explain it to me the best you can, then! You're good at explaining things."_

_"This is..." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes for a second as he took another breath. "I think what I'm feeling right now is something you wouldn't be capable of understanding."_

_Crowley blinked. The words spun around in his head, echoing as he struggled to comprehend them. But nothing came up. Nothing he could say right now would be appropriate, he decided._

_"Fine. Leave yourself locked up in your head, then."_

_"Don't be offended-"_

_"Who said I was offended?" A smirk faded in, but Crowley's eyes would ultimately betray his true feelings. "Perfectly natural to assume a demon knows nothing about feelings and emotions, right? My job is to cause trouble, why should I know anything about matters of the heart?"_

_"Crowley, you're drunk."_   
_"Drunk? I've been sober since we stepped out of that hole, Aziraphale!" His voice remained calm, but bit by bit, frustration crept up. They've known each other for 4000 years. 4000 years, and Aziraphale doesn't want to tell Crowley what he really feels. Well, if he won't do that, Crowley was going to take this opportunity to say what he felt about this whole thing. "You're the one who wanted to have one last night together before your pilgrimage, just drinking and talking! And I was perfectly fine with that! And fine, I didn't really care about this whole "Christ" thing, I'll admit that. But I still listened! I still listened because when you talked about it, you..." The angel's deep blue eyes would light up, knowing that the wisdom of God would be passed down to the people and be saved and heavens, that would just be marvelous to witness. A new era of morality and humans understanding each other. Peace and harmony. Crowley loved to see Aziraphale gush about how things on Earth could approve with these teachings. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to get excited too, just from listening to him. But Crowley gulped those images down and continued. "And now you don't want to go to Jerusalem?"_

_"I can still smell alcohol on your breath."_

_"Just tell me what you're really feeling instead of just beating around the bush!"_

_Speaking of bushes, the one innocently sitting by the door of the bar spontaneously caught fire. Crowley sighed and glared at the flames. The fire puts itself out, though the bush was beyond repair. It was practically ash now._

_"Sorry. Lost myself for a moment there."_

_"It happens, you're fine." Aziraphale looked to where the bush stood and back at Crowley. "Crowley." He blinked, his blue eyes staring at Crowley's golden ones as he stepped toward him again. "I just get worried, you know. I know how...destructive you get when you can't be around other people."_

_"I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"Do I need to remind you of the Sphinx?"_

_"It's been around for 2,000 years, that nose could have fallen off by itself if a fly landed on it!"_

_"So," Aziraphale interrupted. "I have a proposition for you."_

_The demon raised an eyebrow. This was something for the books, the angel wants to make a deal with him. "Let me hear it."_

_"Stay out of trouble. Don't tempt people into committing crimes, don't destroy any buildings, just...don't do anything that could get an angel's attention. I may be forgiving, but others won't be, especially not in times like these."_

_Crowley thought about this. "What about pick-pocketing?"_

_This made Aziraphale think too. "I...suppose that's pretty minor."_

_"What if a bird just happens to shit on someone's head? Is that too much?"_

_"Fine, fine, that can be looked past! Just no murder, no arson, no prostitution, nothing of that sort!"_

_"Alright, fine, I'll stay out of your way." Crowley raised his hands innocently. "But what do I get in return?"_

_"What?"_

_"A deal isn't really a deal if it's only one party reaping the benefits."_

_"Oh right. Let's see." Scratching at his chin absentmindedly in thought, his eyes brightened as he got an idea. "We'll take a tour through Italy! I'm sure it would be just as beautiful as I remembered it!"_

_"And."_

_The smile on Aziraphale's face faded as he looked at Crowley defensively. "And?"_

_"You have to tell me the truth."_

_"The truth about what?"_

_"About why you don't want to leave me alone. Because it's not just that you're worried I cause trouble. It's my job, angel."_

_"Oh, that. Um..." A pink tint rose to Aziraphale's cheeks as he ran this through his mind. "...Fine."_

_Satisfied with the terms, Crowley pushed a hand out towards the angel, smiling devilishly. "So it's a deal?"_

_There was hesitation on Aziraphale's part, but eventually, he grabbed Crowley's hand in a tight grip. "It's a deal."_

_And they shook on it._

-

  
Every time Crowley walked by a stray cat, a rat would happen to run past in front of the feline. And every rat that appears would always be fast enough to provide a bit of chase, but slow enough that a well-placed pounce would end its life. The game would always last about a minute before Crowley decided it was enough stress on the rat's part. Perhaps it would fall from a large height, where another cat would scoop it up and carry it off. Maybe it would trip and break a foot, dooming it to its fate. It wasn't pleasant, and Crowley would rather do the dirty deed and look away right before the cat caught it in its jaws. But nobody would miss one rat. It's not like there wouldn't be ten more to replace it in a week or two. It's the circle of life at work, Crowley would tell himself as the cat runs off with its dinner. Besides, it was a shame nobody really appreciated what they were doing, keeping vermin off the streets.

Speaking of vermin, it's just another day of human watching, another day of looking for ways to taint the human soul. But if you look hard enough, you can see that a demon's hand aren't really needed. People snatching goods from innocent pockets and stalls are not hard to find. Besides, how else was Crowley going to spend time before his dove comes back? There was usually a few days in between messages. And in those days of silence, it was easy to overthink things. Like if Aziraphale had gotten his note at all. What if the dove got lost? There had been some sinister looking clouds in the distance yesterday. Could it have possibly gotten stuck in the storm? What if it was struck down by a stray bolt of lightning? No, what if it was an arrow? Humans eat birds. And off Crowley would go on his trail of thought until finally, it all leads to the worst conclusion he could reach.

Maybe Aziraphale has forgotten about him.

Of course, it was silly to think that Crowley would just be erased from his mind in a couple of days. Ridiculous, stupid even. No, maybe he chose to forgot about him. He finally realized that there was no way an angel and a demon could be friends. Could be acquaintances. Could be anything other than enemies. Three thousand years of the Arrangement, down the drain with all the other debris.

That's why Crowley is out today, traveling through the back alleys of the town and checking with the local residents. Plum is doing much better today than she was two days ago. She zooms past Crowley's feet, chasing after something invisible or too tiny for the naked eye to see. There was Olive, napping on a barrel with not a care in the world. Too peaceful to bother, Crowley decides, to try to pet. With his luck, the orange tabby would wake up straight away, bite at his hand and make his escape down the alley. It always happens. Take even a step towards them, and they go on the defensive, arching their back and hissing, claws at the ready to swipe. Demons are never good with animals, a hard truth Crowley has come to terms with in his life on Earth.

From inside a box, knocked over on its side, a small 'mew' seeps out. The sound reaches Crowley's ears and he turns towards the source. As he walks over and kneels down, the cry becomes more loud and desperate to be heard. A tiny, black kitten lays in the box, its blue eyes staring up at the stranger.

"Well, don't think I've seen you around before." Crowley, forgetting himself, reaches a hand towards the kitten.

Naturally, the kitten swipes at the hand with tiny claws, barely scratching it. Crowley pulls it back as the black ball of fur opens its mouth and flashes its fangs.

"Right, no touching. Understood." Just like for everyone else, he keeps a safe distance away.

But the kitten isn't finished scaring the man away. It stands up, its fur standing on end, but quickly falls back down with a whine. Crowley blinks, watching the kitten closely as it keeps trying to stand and falling over. It's a bit hard to see, with the shade of the box combined with the cat's pitch black coating, but looking closely, the problem becomes clear. Its leg is bent in an unnatural way, like it was broken.

"Someone hurt you, didn't they?"

The kitten, defeated, lays down and mews pathetically. Normally, the mother and her babies wouldn't be too far away from each other. But seeing as this one couldn't possibly keep up, it was left behind. Only the strong survive, after all. And the circle of life makes another turn. Crowley looks away, ready to leave nature to do its work. Because it's really just one cat. It's not like any more will replace it. It's just one kitten, ready to give up, submitting to its defeat. Nobody will even notice if it disappeared.

No. That's not true. There's at least one person who would. And he's getting ready to reach for the kitten again. it scoots back until it hits the back of the box, hissing as much as it can.

"Just hold still. You'll be fine." Crowley looks to his left, then to his right, then to his left again. Just in case, he also looks up towards the sky. "Nobody here to see this? Good." With a sudden motion, he grabs the kitten's injured leg.

The kitten yowls and screams, biting and scratching at the hand. But even as the hand is torn at and abused, it holds on to it.

Crowley grits his teeth. Even though these are minor injuries, they still sting. But he muscles through it as he wills a miracle over to his attacker.

"Okay! I know, you hate me! But I'm almost done!"

He lets go. The black ball of fur darts out of the box, speeding past Crowley. After running a few feet, the kitten trots to a stop as if it realized something. Its previously broken leg is healed, like nothing had ever happened to it. It looks to its leg, and slowly, it looks up to Crowley. Meeting the cat's gaze, he slowly raises a hand.

"Be careful, alright?"

The kitten blinks, then turns and runs off out of the alley with the rest of the pride.

Crowley waits until the kitten is out of his sight before looking to his hand. He hisses in pain, looking at the scratches and gashes he had received from his patient. It would heal itself in no time, but it pulses with pain as blood slowly flows onto his skin.

"That's what you get for being nice, Crowley." He mumbles to himself.

"It's you! You heretic!" A new voice echoes down the alley.

"That's me." Crowley doesn't have to turn around to know that the old man he had argued with the other day was talking to him. Ever since that incident, he couldn't bring himself to eavesdrop on his shows. But now, with a drop of blood falling from his hand and staining the ground, he's in no mood to run away. "You wanted to preach at me some more, I'm guessing?"

"You guess correctly!" The man trips over to his enemy, the smell of alcohol drifting in the air. "You are an embarrassment to all mankind, speaking in God's grace the way you did!"

"I was expressing my opinion."

"How does it feel, knowing you will be left to Hell's wrath when the Rapture saves the rest of us?"

Pursing his lips, Crowley thinks for a second. "Could be worse. Isn't it a tad early to be drinking? I thought you all waited until the sun went down."

The old geezer spits onto the ground, right next to the spot of blood. He blinks, putting the pieces together of where the blood could possibly be coming from, and slowly raises his head to Crowley's bloody hand. The flush on his face quickly fades.

"What-"

"Oh, this?" Crowley raises his injury towards the man. "A reminder not to handle stray animals."

With a disgusted expression, the man takes a step back. "Keep that away from me! Why can't you just go and wrap it up? It's..." He gulps. "Revolting."

Crowley looks to his hand, then back to the man. "Shows I'm human, doesn't it? I even bleed like one." Well, he was human shaped. But no one needs to know that.  
"Y-Yes." Despite the man's nausea, he can't look away from the scratches being shown to him. "You sure you don't need something?"

"Well," Crowley looks down to his hand again, "it hurts like hell."

As if hearing his cue, the man sidles closer with a grin that will disappear as soon as tomorrow comes with a hangover. "You know what they do in the army before a surgery?"

"You're not going to amputate my hand, are you?"

"Not unless you touch Laura. She's mine."

"I thought you were all about being free of sin."

"My boy, no one is free of sin. I just say that to make people feel good about themselves."

"That's very cynical."

"We're all going to hell no matter what. It's like you said. It's all propaganda!"

"So," Crowley grins, raising an eyebrow, "you're telling me that you lie every day in front of tens of people."

"Someone has to. Come on, enough interrogating. Do you want that drink or not?"

"What about my hand?"

They both look at his hand one more time. But Crowley's skin is clear, not a single scratch in sight. "Hm. Looks fine to me."

"Would you look at that." Crowley plainly says, trying to look surprised but failing. Not that the man notices as he pushes his new friend along.

"Must be me eyes playin' tricks on me. Now go on, before the watering hole runs dry!"

-

Walking home with a stomach full of beer is something Crowley would not recommend. Especially when there's a dove waiting patiently at the window and you can barely see straight. As far as Crowley is concerned, there's a white ball in his room, and it's making noise. A lot of noise, but not enough to stop Crowley from finding his bed and crashing down into it.

"Welcome back. 's about time."

He should sober himself up. That's the reasonable thing to do. But the alcohol is saying otherwise. Just stay a little drunk, that's a good boy. You think too much when you're sober. The bird flutters to the bed, looking up at Crowley patiently. Crowley frowns.

"What?"

The dove coos expectantly.

He scowls. "I know what you're doing. You're going to act like everything is fine, that you're not standing next to an agent of darkness. Then when I put my hand near you, that's when you attack! That's when you decide that enough is enough, and you rebel against the dark lord! Well, guess what, you rat with wings?" Crowley leans closer, breathing alcohol towards the poor bird and making it wince from the smell. "I'm not a lord! Not even close! I'm just the guy who runs around on Earth and does reports and doesn't get as much as a 'thank you' for doing so!"

During his ranting, Crowley decides the best way to express himself would be to stand up and pace about the room. "You know that guy I just had drinks with, he would have a plaque! He would have top honor, because all he would have to do is open his mouth and lie out of his arse! Yeah, that's right, he's got my recommendation! He even lies about Hell, that's how good at lying he is! He says he's been to Hell, but believe me, he doesn't know the half of it. He doesn't know what it's like to always hear the screaming of the damned begging for mercy because they decided it was okay to accept bribes or kill an innocent child because they didn't look quite right! Because that's all humans are ever born to be! Scum! Pure scum, and not even some carpenter in Nazareth is going to help them get their act together! Oh, and also!" He runs to the window for this part and yells at the top of his lungs. "The Whore of Babylon's beast has seven heads, not three! Get your facts straight, you piece of shit!"

His vision blurs for a moment, and its only a few seconds later when Crowley sees the mess on the ground below outside that he realizes he's just thrown out all of the contents of his stomach. Great. This is why you sober up before something like this happens. Groaning, he slides against the wall and sits down on the floor, catching his breath. The familiar calls of the dove ring in his head. Looking down, he sees the bird has made its way to his side, looking up at him.

"Why are you still here?"

The bird turns around, facing its back and the new message to Crowley. He snatches it rather quickly, causing the creature to jump slightly in surprise. With shaking hands, he unfolds the papyrus and reads.

**I'm glad you're excited for Italy! But please, before I get back, don't do anything stupid.**

Don't do anything stupid.

Crowley reads those words over and over again. They make themselves at home with recent events. Let's see. He's essentially said to a crowd of listeners that God doesn't matter. Even though he knows animals don't like him, his right hand had gotten abused horribly because he decided to be kind. He's gone out drinking with a man who he thought hated him, but was just putting on a show to trick people into giving him donations. And now he's come home completely drunk, going on a tangent about how humans are going to hell anyway and then yelling out the window about the Whore of Babylon.

Aziraphale has just told Crowley not to do anything stupid. And Crowley has done nothing but stupid things since he's been gone. Because that's all he's capable of doing without someone to babysit him. Sure, he says things are fine, but are they really? As long as Aziraphale is over there and Crowley is over here, he's going to find ways to mess everything up. Even if he locks himself in his room and stays in bed, that wouldn't be living. So what is he supposed to do with himself?

That's why Aziraphale mentioned not wanting to go on his last night before his pilgrimage. He needed to make sure Crowley didn't fuck himself up.

Something warm and wet slides down Crowley's cheek. He wipes his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Dammit," he swears to himself, his breaths shaking, "not again. Not now, please."

Emotions were embarrassing. They showed weakness. Every demon knows how to hide them away from everyone else. But for some reason, Crowley never got full control of him. But as long as no one else sees, he was free to cry his eyes out. But that's not learning to control them. Once he let them go freely, it was hard to reel them back in again. If another demon saw him like this, he would be a laughing stock. Crowley couldn't deal with that. They'd probably lock him up until he learned how to be less...like this.

A sob manages to escape past his throat, and Crowley covers his mouth to hide the sound. Tears keep running down his cheeks, dripping off his chin onto his robe. If Aziraphale could see him now, what would he say? 'Pull yourself together, Crowley. That's not how you're supposed to act.' 'I thought you were stronger than this, Crowley.' 'How am I supposed to take you seriously if you break down over the tiniest things, Crowley?'

But the voices in his head shush for just a second. Something is under his right hand. And it's alive. Crowley could feel it breath in his hand. No. No way. This never happened. Slowly, he looks down and doubts what he sees.

The dove, vibrating as it coos, had just moved up to the demon's hand. And it's rubbing its head on his thumb.

Crowley shoots his hand away. "What the hell are you doing!? Don't you know I'm-" He stops when he realizes the dove is watching his hand. It looks to him, then back to his hand, like it's waiting for something. After wiping the tears from his eyes again, Crowley slowly puts his shaking hand next to the dove.

The bird quickly pushes its body into Crowley's palm, continuing to rub its head on Crowley's thumb. It was so soft, like what the best pillows are made from. Crowley dares to move his thumb and pet the dove. It trills softly, letting Crowley feel its feathers, down its neck and onto its wings. It isn't attacking or trying to escape. It sits there, relaxing into Crowley's hand as he pets it.

Crowley, a demon, was petting an animal. A meteor could hit the Earth for all he cared, but as long as he could feel the dove in his hand, only peace reigned supreme. He giggles, a light shining among his dark thoughts.

"You are the strangest creature I've ever met. But I'm glad I met you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, I've decided to make this fic a three parter. Third part will be posted sometime after Sunday.


	3. Chapter 3

Peck.

There's something peck, peck, pecking at Crowley's hand. Groggy, he opens his eyes. The two of them are laying on the floor, the bird still huddling up to Crowley's palm. From the window above them, the sun's rays begin to peek in as it rises and announces the morning.

Damn mornings. How is anyone expected to be wide awake as soon as they wake up? Whatever the method is, the dove has got it figured out. Its doing anything it can to get Crowley up, pecking and fluttering to the writing desk and back to the floor again. Every time it flaps its wings, an earthquake shakes Crowley's eardrums. This is what he gets for forgetting to sober himself before he fell asleep. Actually, why did he fall asleep? The last thing he remembers is laying on the floor with his little friend, petting and mumbling little compliments to it. 'You're so pretty. Handsome? Whatever you prefer.' He couldn't have been that relaxed, could he?

"What?" He asks the bird, sitting up as his head pounded. Once he's fully awake, this hangover will fade away like the stars in the sky are doing right now.

A piece of papyrus flutters to the floor.The dove hops down again and picks up it up in its beak, looking up at Crowley with an expectant gaze.

Slowly, as the wheels in his head turn, Crowley realizes what time it is. "Oh, right. You need to get going." So he stands up, grabbing the pen from his desk. The dove flies to the table and drops the papyrus by his hand, then stares up at Crowley. Crowley looks to the dove, then to the blank message.

Shit. What should he say? He couldn't even remember what Aziraphale had sent the night before. Maybe he should look for it, give himself a refresher. Looking down, he sees the discarded letter on the floor by the window, slightly scuffed but still perfectly readable. Crowley reaches down and gives it another look.

'Don't do anything stupid'. Why did that have to constantly ring in his head? It bounces around like a shout in a cave, jumping from every corner it can find. If it was anyone else saying this, Crowley would have no trouble throwing it into the back of his mind and forgetting about it, moving on to whatever it was he was doing. But this was Aziraphale. He always knew what he was talking about. In the four thousand years they've known each other, they learned to coexist like this, and that meant Aziraphale being honest and letting Crowley know when he had gone too far with one of his 'tricks', as the angel called them. Crowley likes that he calls them that. It's endearing, he thinks. Besides, Crowley knows how to win his favor back. Since humans decided to record their history through writing, Aziraphale had gushed over how clever and imaginative humans were, keeping their past alive with these passages and scrolls. Ever since the angel started a little collection of these writings, Crowley had been on the look out for them as well, especially during their times apart. His favorite was from his trip to Egypt, a scroll describing the journey to the afterlife, and the many spells that would assist the dead soul through this path. They both agree that it's an entertaining read.

**Sorry. I miss you. Come see me soon.**

Crowley's hand moves by itself, scratching the words onto the sheet. He doesn't even realize what he's written until he reads it back to himself, his throat closing tight as his cheeks turn pink. What the hell are you doing? No, this won't do. Start over, start-

But the dove snatches the message as soon as Crowley's pen lifts off the piece. The two share a glance before the bird hops to the window.

"Wait, I'm not-"

Crowley reaches forward to grab at the messenger, barely jumping out of the window in the process. The only thing stopping him is his knee hitting the table, knocking over the bottle of ink, spilling it into a puddle, slowly spreading across the surface. He doesn't even notice it seep into his robes as the bird shrinks into the distance with his letter.  
His stupid, stupid letter. Why did he write that!? How could this happen!? You don't just write things without thinking! Is that even possible!? Crowley looks down at his hand and snarls, banging it on the wall in a fist. "Damn it!!" The shout grabs the attention of a few pedestrians down below, and Crowley looks down to all of them.

Don't call attention to yourself.

Slowly, he reaches for the window panels, and gently shuts them. With his main source of sunlight gone, all that was left was Crowley and his thoughts.

And Lord, did he hate them.

-

Once again, something small pecks at the window. Crowley doesn't notice at first. Or rather, he doesn't want to notice. But the source of the pecking is intent on entering, and the sound was getting irritating. That window has been closed since that damn rat with wings flew off with his letter, but it looks like its going to be opened, whether Crowley likes it or not. With a sigh, he opens the window, and the room instantly fills with moonlight. The dove hops onto the table, stained with spilled ink from a few days ago.  
Crowley clicks his tongue as he finally sees the stain. It had been a while since he actually had been near the table. He wipes it with his hand, and it clears away instantly, leaving the table spotless again. Crowley always tries to keep his things clean, but he was thinking of other things, like how there was a letter waiting for him in the little bird's pouch.

Oh Lord, there was a letter waiting for Crowley. He shudders to think about what Aziraphale could possible say about his moment of weakness. With a gulp, he reaches over with a shaking hand and retrieves the message. But Crowley doesn't open it right away. Something's stopping him. There isn't a word he can think of to describe what he's feeling right now. Starts with a 'P'? No, 'A'. Even with the all the fresh air flooding into the room, Crowley was finding it hard to breathe. But why? He doesn't feel sick at all.

He looks to the dove, to the letter, then back to the dove again. In return, the bird looks up at him, to the letter, then back at him. It seems to be waiting for the reveal, wanting to know how this ordeal will turn out.

Procrastinating on opening Aziraphale's reply, Crowley speaks to the only other living thing in the room. "Place your bets. What's in here?"

The dove blinks and tilts its head with a confused coo.

"Do you think it's something like" he lifts his hand as he performs, 'My dear, I knew you couldn't live without me! Ever since the garden of Eden, you are completely lost without me!' Or, no, how about this? What if it's just another saying from his Lord and Savior?" He chuckles, his throat tightening. "Just chooses to ignore what I said! But you know what, I would be fine with that." He leans down, resting his chin on the table so he can look his friend in the eye. "I'd rather just live while ignoring that instead of saying anything about it. Push it under the rug, eh? I could just say I was drunk and everything would be fine." He pauses. The dove takes a step forward. He sighs and rests his head on his arms.

"Who am I kidding? Of course he's going to mention it. Gonna make fun of me for it, I bet." He peeks up at the dove, who has just walked up to his right hand. "Some agent of Hell I am, eh? Telling the enemy I miss 'em."

In response, the dove coos and rubs its head against the back of Crowley's hand. He sits up, lifting his hand up slightly over the bird. It continues to purr as Crowley gently rests his hand on the dove's back, rubbing its wing with his thumb.

"But I least I got a friend out of this." A smile sneaks its way onto Crowley's face as he feels the feathers under his fingers. They were as soft as they were before, maybe even more so.

But Crowley's attention still returns to the papyrus, still sitting on the table and waiting to be read. He sighs and stops his petting. "Just do it. Do it and get it over with."

He opens and reads it.

**It's alright, my dear. I'll be there soon. Please hold on for me**.

Crowley's eyes widen. Aziraphale will 'be there soon'. So does that mean...

"He's coming back?" It's been a couple months now since they've met in person. Now Aziraphale is coming back to him. Does that mean his work is done?

His friend stands up and walks up to him, staring up at his face intently.

"He's coming back." He repeats to the dove, who seems to nod in agreement.

But something's not right. He should be happy. Excited, even. His best friend was coming to see him. So why isn't he happy?

Because something isn't right. Aziraphale couldn't just be done looking after the Son of God, could he? The young speaker was making waves judging by the rumors he heard from the residents here. He couldn't possibly be done already.

Maybe he wasn't done at all. He's just doing a check-up. Making sure Crowley hasn't gotten someone killed or a building wasn't demolished. Because that's what happens when Crowley is alone. Things seem to fall apart around him. He can already feel his chest tighten, anticipating something bad to happen.

No. This was irrational. Was it? What if it wasn't? What if that was exactly it? Crowley's eyes sting as tears well up. The dove winces as one falls onto its head. Ruffling its feathers, it looks up at Crowley, watching another one begin its descent down his left cheek. As he wipes it away, he looks back to the bird.

"What's wrong with me?" He clears his throat to get rid of the waver in his voice, but it stays as he continues. "Why am I like this? Every time I think about him, I feel like..." He stops and attempts to swallow the lump in his throat down. "I always think...about why he bothers. With me."

As Crowley speaks, tears free-falling down to the table, the dove walks up to him with a concerned coo. Seeing this, he glares down at it.

"When are you going to stop pretending you care about me?"

The dove straightens up, its eyes widening.

"What do you get out of this? You let me touch you, talk to you, interact with you. If you were sensible, you would have flown off as soon as you saw me for the first time. So what is it? Extra birdseed? Some pampering from your angel? I'm sure he told you to put up with me for all that, didn't he?"

Crowley ignores the bird shaking its head and stands up, pacing to the bed and back to his desk. "Because that's all I am. A problem. Aziraphale has put up with me for all these years and for what? So I can talk back to him whenever he tries to enlighten me with the 'Word of God'? So I could take him out drinking and get smashed and set a bush on fire because he doesn't know what he wants to say to me?!" He blinks, and with all the anger he can muster, he turns and glares down at the bird. "No. He knows what he wants to say. But he won't, because then he would have to make an effort to comfort me after telling me I'm just his little pet project!" He hisses as the bird, shuddering, takes a step away from him. Even as it moves away, it refuses to look away from the demon as he speaks. "And it was up to you, wasn't it? To get me to remember who I was, what I could have been. Just show a little compassion, and anyone can turn an demon back into an angel." Crowley sighs, finally letting up and turning away from the bird. "Believe me, the other way around is much easier. Not that he would know. He's got no worries about that happening if he converts me back. Soon, he'll realize I'm just a lost cause, and then, I don't have to spend any more nights thinking about him."

"Is that really what you think of me?"

Time freezes. The air stagnates. And for the first time ever, Crowley is afraid to look at the source of the voice. A footstep sounds out.

"Don't come near me."

"Why?"

Silence prevails again.

"You were with me this whole time?"

"Well, technically, I was here when I supposed to be over there."

"Why didn't you just tell me what-"

"There's eyes all over. I can't just approach you like this."

A small chuckle escapes Crowley. He never interrupts him when he's talking. He's too polite for that.

"Here you are, anyway."

"I'm...scouting ahead. The Lord is making his way over to this area. Have to make sure the way is clear of any threats."

"Like me?"

"Crowley-"

"It's fine. I'll just keep myself locked up in here. That's what I've been doing the past few days, why should I stop now?"

"Take a deep breath."

"Why? You want to try meditation now? You think that'll fix me?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, will you be quiet!?"

Crowley is suddenly taken by the arms and is forcefully spun around to face his friend. Light blue eyes look into his golden ones, and they become the only two on the planet.  
"I was going to surprise you! I was going to see you after all this time, and we would escape to Italy, and we were going to taste the wine and just be...us!" The blue eyes begin to moisten. "I never said you needed to change, Crowley! The truth is that I..." He gulps and squeezes his eyes shut, forcing a tear out. "I don't want you to change! I don't care that you fell, because you've given me something I never knew I really wanted."

Crowley could only stare at the angel as he hangs onto every word.

"If you want the truth," Aziraphale sniffles, "I didn't want to leave because that meant being away from you. And it hurt. I knew it was going to hurt while I was in Jerusalem. So..." he sighs and wipes his eyes, "that's why I came up with sending birds to you. It gave me the excuse I needed to see you."

Crowley finally brings up the courage to speak. "But wouldn't someone notice you gone?"

"It's alright. I worked the day shift. As long as I came back by morning, no one would notice."

No wonder the dove was in such a hurry to get back that one day. Guilt is building up in Crowley after realizing that. If he had known, he would have hurried up and sent Aziraphale on his way instead of internally debating over his message.  
"

But Crowley." Wiping away a stray tear off of Crowley's cheek, Aziraphale speaks again. "It also hurt me to see you beat yourself up like this. I couldn't just stand by and watch like I did last time."

Crowley frowns and looks away.

Aziraphale brings his gaze back to him with a gentle hand on his cheek. He continues, staring into each other's eyes like it was the last treasure in the world. "You really think you're a mistake?"

The angel's hand is so warm. And soft. Crowley leans his cheek into it without really thinking. "I fell. I have to be."

"I think you're forgetting something important, my dear."

This caught the demon's interest. He raises a brow. "Oh?"

"Wasn't Satan created in Heaven as well? He's your Lord now, isn't he?" For the very first time since he was brought into existence by God's hand, Aziraphale shrugs his shoulders. "I would say he is doing pretty well for himself, isn't he?"

It takes a solid five seconds to process what Crowley just hears. And when he does, all his tension bursts out into sudden laughter. "S-Since when would you compare me to the Dark Lord himself? What's gotten into you?"

"Just a sudden burst of inspiration." And Aziraphale laughs as well, causing air to flow, sunlight to shine brightly in the room, and a child suddenly finding their lost puppy out in the streets.

"You..." Crowley responds after catching his breath, "You need to go drink some holy water for saying the Dark Lord's name out loud, angel."

"Don't worry, I'll cleanse my tongue after this." There was a grimace as Aziraphale gulps something down. "Ugh, leaves a horrible taste."  
"You soldiered through it, though. Say it enough times and you get used to it."

"I don't know if I want to, to be quite honest with you."

"Fair enough." Crowley giggles, and Aziraphale responds in kind with his own smile.

"Well, my plan went down the drain. Can't exactly visit you like that anymore."

"As a dove? I didn't say you could stop doing it. Besides, you were quite cute."

A sudden blush covers Aziraphale's face, causing him to scowl. "What are you going on about?" He bursts out. "Don't just say that so casually!"

"You were saying some pretty weird things casually, too. Now it's my turn."

"Stop it!" He covers his ears, or at least pretends to. It's hard to cover up how playful he's feeling. "I haven't been like that since Noah built his ark, my arms are always sore after flying back and forth so much!"

"So you enjoyed me giving you attention, that's what I'm hearing."

"I just let you do that so you could feel better!"

He leans over to see Aziraphale, smirking. "You know, it did help."

Slowly, Aziraphale put his hands down, looking at Crowley with bright eyes. "...Did it really?"

Crowley nods and smiles. "I have no reason to lie to you."

"You always have a reason."

"Not right now."

"Well, in any case," Aziraphale fixes his robes, "I should be heading back to the group. Tell them the coast is clear of anything demonic in nature."

"And you tell me off for lying."

He raises an eyebrow. "You're not plotting anything, are you?"

"Of course not! I'd have to be an idiot to get near someone like-"

"Like me?"

Crowley smirks. "You're different, you don't know how to stay away from me."

The angel sighs. "That's my cross to bear."

"And speaking of crosses..." Crowley peeks over Aziraphale's shoulder towards the window. Already, the bustle of the crowd below in the marketplace was getting louder. "I think you should head back to your group before they think something's amiss."

"Hm? Oh!" Aziraphale's eyes widen, looking to the window. "Right, yes, that's important, heaven knows what would happen if I stayed away too long." He mumbles as he walks towards the light. But he stops midway and walks back to Crowley. "Oh, and one more thing."

"No, I haven't gone drinking again since you last saw m-"

Aziraphale closes his eyes and leans into Crowley's cheek. Crowley blinks, not quite processing what's happening at first. It's only when Aziraphale backs away again that Crowley realizes what just happened. He puts a hand up to the affected spot and smiles, feeling it warm up.

"I didn't realize you were going to be so...physical."

"It's just something I've noticed humans do. They do that when they...part ways."

"Huh." He removes his hand and looks down to it, as if a small piece of Aziraphale's gift would manifest itself there.

"Did you not like it?" Aziraphale looks to Crowley, his expression dampening. "Sorry, I should have asked before I-"

"No. It's fine." Crowley smiles as he leans into Aziraphale's cheek, returning the favor. As he backs away, he could swear the angel was...purring? No, that's not right. He must be hearing things. "I wouldn't mind if we did that every once in a while."

"Truth be told," Aziraphale smiles warmly, "I wouldn't be opposed to it either."

They share another gaze with each other, and just as the world threatens to stop turning again, the angel blinks and remembers.

"Oh, sh-...Oh, d-...Oh, heavens, why am I still hear?! I need to go!" And the angel turns and runs to the window.

Crowley blinks, a pang of disappointment wavering in his chest. "Give my regards to your Lord!"

"You know I won't!"

And Crowley laughs, blinking one more time. Aziraphale vanishes, and a pure white dove flies out towards the sunlight. Watching the white speck grow smaller by the second,

Crowley sighs.

But at least Italy wasn't too far away now.

**Author's Note:**

> ALRIGHT SO  
> This is really just me putting an idea on paper and putting it up online because I heard there was a series coming out and I read the book and BY GOD I had to put this up. Don't know if the series will even touch on the birth of Jesus, but if it does, I'm going on the record by saying this is my interpretation based on the book. While wearing my shipper goggles. And being very tired. I thought this was gonna be a one shot and it got too out of control.


End file.
